Dark Cloud of Morning

One of my friends was repeatedly writing to me asking for a summons to my house. He was a crazy fan of Shakespeare, and as I was residing in Stratford-upon-Avon, he wanted to take the chance to visit me to fulfil his dream of seeing his favourite author’s birthplace.
In the winter vacation of that year, I finally invited him. On a foggy morning, my friend and I were having coffee and were discussing the authenticity of the lost city of Atlantis, about which Plato wrote in his dialogue ‘ Timaeus and Critias’. The discussion was interrupted when the postman dropped a letter through the mailbox. It was only that one letter that day, in an unusual envelop with a hand-written address. I opened the letter with great inquisitiveness and was dazed to see that it was sent by one of my long-lost friends, Helal. He wrote from the Middle East. He was one of my best friends during my high school days. The letter’s summary was that he had not forgotten me; and we would get together soon. However, that soon never came.
It has been seven years since I read that letter. Now, I sit with my pen to write of his memory.
After the terrible loss of his father in a road accident, Helal had to migrate to the Middle East to fend for himself and his family. He was so loutish, he did not even say goodbye before his departure.
The 5 feet 8 inch tall Helal Uddin was unique in his looks, with dark skin and a long, round face, a short beard covering his chin. His exceptionally broad forehead made him look rather ugly, and his overall countenance appeared menacing, with curly short hair and a broad body with strong muscles. And his clothes were grimy. He was 18 years old, which his skin and body reflected, but his innocent smile made him look like a child of 10-12 years. Helal had something in his eyes, he hardly talked, but his eyes always spoke; he never smiled, but his eyes did.  He was unpleasant in his manners; he was unfriendly; never helped anyone and never expected help from others, either. He never listened to others. But he had an exceptional commitment towards me _ it was like he could do anything for me.
Then he migrated to the Middle East, leaving behind his boyhood, education, family and childhood love, Bokul. His migration made his family better off and happier. His immediate younger brother, Taher, couldn’t focus on his studies, but was doing well as a truck driver and bringing money for the family. The youngest brother, Karim, was the most brilliant one; he managed to get himself admitted to BUET (Bangladesh University of Engineering and Technology). His two sisters, Sharmin and Jasmine, were also doing well as students.
After dropping out of school at an early age, Helal’s only dream was to establish his siblings. Helal’s family was doing well, until disaster struck them when a group of boys started teasing his youngest sister, Jasmine.
The family took immediate steps by complaining to the police; but the outcome was still savage _ Jasmine died following a brutal gang rape.  Her death left the family in utter misery. However, her loved ones never received justice as the culprits had strong political connections.  
The family’s tragedy did not end there. His youngest brother, the BUET student, was an anti-war crime campaigner. As their grandfather was a freedom father who was killed by Razakars during the Liberation War in 1971, Karim used to write on his blog demanding punishment for the war criminals. But before he could see the result of his movement, he had to pay the ultimate price _ he was shot dead while returning to his dormitory one night. Nobody knows who killed Karim.
However, after 12 years of hard work as a migrant worker in a foreign land and two devastating family events, Helal returned home with all of his savings. He admitted his sister, Sharmin, into a medical college and helped Taher to become a professional truck driver. And amazingly, he found his sweetheart, Bokul, still unmarried.
Helal then decided to buy a truck for Taher. And Helal, finally, proposed to Bokul. But God decided something else for him!
On his third trip with the new truck, Taher was carrying tons of export goods from Chittagong to Dhaka. On that very day, the verdict in the case of one war criminal was delivered by the special tribunal. The convicted man’s party called a countrywide hartal in protest. Taher’s fate was sealed _ his truck was set on fire with a petrol bomb, and he was killed instantly.  
Helal lost his ability to withstand one more catastrophe, he became mentally ill. Bokul couldn’t make it with Helal, and got married to another man. Helal slowly recovered from his illness.
One day, the medical college wrote to Sharmin, asking her not to attend classes without paying her overdue fees.
So, Helal left home for the second time in his life. While leaving, he promised Sharmin that she will certainly become a doctor, as long as her brother stays alive.
After eight-long months, Sharmin is now working in a nearby garments factory. Their mother was sick, she needed urgent medical treatment. Unfortunately, in those eight months, they had heard nothing from Helal. While the mother and sister were desperately waiting for him, no one knew where Helal had gone.
One fine morning, Sharmin switched on the TV and was watching the news while preparing breakfast. A news report suddenly caught her attention _ it was a live broadcast from Malaysia, where the authorities had found a mass grave in a forest bordering Thailand.
Sharmin continued to watch and she stopped dead when saw the skeletal body of her brother, pulled out from a freshly dug shallow grave. She switched off the TV and concentrated on preparing food. Then she left home for the factory. It was a hot summer’s day. Suddenly, a dark cloud blocked the bright sunshine. She stopped, expecting fresh rain to cleanse her weary body, and soul. She waited for sometime, but rain drops did not fall. She wanted to wait more, but then realised that she was getting late for work, and started running towards the factory. 

The writer is a researcher in South Asian politics and political economy.

 

Dark Cloud of Morning

One of my friends was repeatedly writing to me asking for a summons to my house. He was a crazy fan of Shakespeare, and as I was residing in Stratford-upon-Avon, he wanted to take the chance to visit me to fulfil his dream of seeing his favourite authors birthplace. In the winter vacation of that year, I finally invited him. On a foggy morning, my friend and I were having coffee and were discussing the authenticity of the lost city of Atlantis, about which Plato wrote in his dialogue Timaeus and Critias. The discussion was interrupted when the postman dropped a letter through the mailbox. It was only that one letter that day, in an unusual envelop with a hand-written address. I opened the letter with great inquisitiveness and was dazed to see that it was sent by one of my long-lost friends, Helal. He wrote from the Middle East. He was one of my best friends during my high school days. The letters summary was that he had not forgotten me; and we would get together soon. However, that soon never came. It has been seven years since I read that letter. Now, I sit with my pen to write of his memory. After the terrible loss of his father in a road accident, Helal had to migrate to the Middle East to fend for himself and his family. He was so loutish, he did not even say goodbye before his departure. The 5 feet 8 inch tall Helal Uddin was unique in his looks, with dark skin and a long, round face, a short beard covering his chin. His exceptionally broad forehead made him look rather ugly, and his overall countenance appeared menacing, with curly short hair and a broad body with strong muscles. And his clothes were grimy. He was 18 years old, which his skin and body reflected, but his innocent smile made him look like a child of 10-12 years. Helal had something in his eyes, he hardly talked, but his eyes always spoke; he never smiled, but his eyes did. He was unpleasant in his manners; he was unfriendly; never helped anyone and never expected help from others, either. He never listened to others. But he had an exceptional commitment towards me _ it was like he could do anything for me. Then he migrated to the Middle East, leaving behind his boyhood, education, family and childhood love, Bokul. His migration made his family better off and happier. His immediate younger brother, Taher, couldnt focus on his studies, but was doing well as a truck driver and bringing money for the family. The youngest brother, Karim, was the most brilliant one; he managed to get himself admitted to BUET (Bangladesh University of Engineering and Technology). His two sisters, Sharmin and Jasmine, were also doing well as students. After dropping out of school at an early age, Helals only dream was to establish his siblings. Helals family was doing well, until disaster struck them when a group of boys started teasing his youngest sister, Jasmine. The family took immediate steps by complaining to the police; but the outcome was still savage _ Jasmine died following a brutal gang rape. Her death left the family in utter misery. However, her loved ones never received justice as the culprits had strong political connections. The familys tragedy did not end there. His youngest brother, the BUET student, was an anti-war crime campaigner. As their grandfather was a freedom father who was killed by Razakars during the Liberation War in 1971, Karim used to write on his blog demanding punishment for the war criminals. But before he could see the result of his movement, he had to pay the ultimate price _ he was shot dead while returning to his dormitory one night. Nobody knows who killed Karim. However, after 12 years of hard work as a migrant worker in a foreign land and two devastating family events, Helal returned home with all of his savings. He admitted his sister, Sharmin, into a medical college and helped Taher to become a professional truck driver. And amazingly, he found his sweetheart, Bokul, still unmarried. Helal then decided to buy a truck for Taher. And Helal, finally, proposed to Bokul. But God decided something else for him! On his third trip with the new truck, Taher was carrying tons of export goods from Chittagong to Dhaka. On that very day, the verdict in the case of one war criminal was delivered by the special tribunal. The convicted mans party called a countrywide hartal in protest. Tahers fate was sealed _ his truck was set on fire with a petrol bomb, and he was killed instantly. Helal lost his ability to withstand one more catastrophe, he became mentally ill. Bokul couldnt make it with Helal, and got married to another man. Helal slowly recovered from his illness. One day, the medical college wrote to Sharmin, asking her not to attend classes without paying her overdue fees. So, Helal left home for the second time in his life. While leaving, he promised Sharmin that she will certainly become a doctor, as long as her brother stays alive. After eight-long months, Sharmin is now working in a nearby garments factory. Their mother was sick, she needed urgent medical treatment. Unfortunately, in those eight months, they had heard nothing from Helal. While the mother and sister were desperately waiting for him, no one knew where Helal had gone. One fine morning, Sharmin switched on the TV and was watching the news while preparing breakfast. A news report suddenly caught her attention _ it was a live broadcast from Malaysia, where the authorities had found a mass grave in a forest bordering Thailand. Sharmin continued to watch and she stopped dead when saw the skeletal body of her brother, pulled out from a freshly dug shallow grave. She switched off the TV and concentrated on preparing food. Then she left home for the factory. It was a hot summers day. Suddenly, a dark cloud blocked the bright sunshine. She stopped, expecting fresh rain to cleanse her weary body, and soul. She waited for sometime, but rain drops did not fall. She wanted to wait more, but then realised that she was getting late for work, and started running towards the factory. The writer is a researcher in South Asian politics and political economy.